Snicket Snippets
by BaticeerExtraordinare
Summary: A look into the lives of the three Snicket siblings
1. Very First Date

**My name is Poppy Luxe. As part of the new VFD, it is my duty to recover files that were once lost. This is not, however, the Snicket file. These are merely the footnotes; moments in the lives of the Snickets which I hope may shed light on other circumstances and individuals surrounding the three siblings.**

 **M - please file copies under Baudelaire, Olaf, VFD - school of, Beatrice, and any other place you believe a copy should be. I apologize that they are not in chronological order. There was a stiff wind in the park the day I intended to type these and it blew my research in all directions. Also, please excuse the water and puncture marks on page 4. I had to retrieve it from a rather aggressive duck who, for whatever reason, was very intent on keep it for itself.**

 **With All Due Respect,  
Poppy**

* * *

 _Dear Lemony,_

 _Thank you for your kind invitation. I was not so much embarrassed as I was shocked. I'd never heard Beethoven played on an accordion before. My friends embarrassed me far more. I should apologize for their rudeness, but I'd rather do so in person. I've never had a root beer float before, so I suppose I will meet you at the suggested location at recess._

 _~ Beatrice Baudelaire_

 _Student of Zoology_

VERY FIRST DATE

"Jacques! Kit! _Please,_ " I begged. "Do. Not. Come! It's embarrassing. It's humiliating. It's awkward. It's mortifying. It's… it's discommodious! Discommodious means embarrassing, humiliating, awkward and mortifying, by the way."

My older sister rolled her eyes. "I know what it means. I also know that you're very mistaken if you think we're going to miss our little brother's first date."

"It's _not_ a date! How many times do I have to tell you that?"

"You're going out to a café to meet a girl," Jacques said. He was my older brother and Kit's twin. I've been unfairly outnumbered since I was born. "What would you call it, then?"

"A get-together," I replied firmly. "A meeting. Socializing. I've only really talked to her once."

"Was that when you popped out from behind the bookshelves with your accordion?" Kit grinned. It was a smug grin that knew too much. "I'm still surprised you weren't kicked out of the library."

"I'd already asked Ms. Cleary if I could do it. And I did _not_ 'pop out'. You make it sound like I ambushed her."

"Well, you were lying in wait to surprise someone," she shrugged. "Just think of us as your VFD chaperones! It'll give you head start on next year when you've got a real one. It's not like we're going to sit there and interrogate her. We'll be at our own table on the other side of the room."

I was about to concede, when a horrible vision came to mind. "Oh my gosh. Don't take the menu with the eye holes! I beg you!"

"Ok, we'll just stare at you," Jacques said.

" _NO!_ Look, if you absolutely have to, then don't you _dare_ bring the opera glasses!"

Kit snorted. "Don't flatter yourself, L. You aren't that interesting. In all honesty, we're only going to make sure you two get there and back safely. We've all heard about that man who escaped the Askant Asylum. As I said, you'll be going off with your first real chaperone soon. We'd rather not be separated until then."

"I promised mom I'd look after both of you," Jacques added. "You know how she'd get if something happened. I'd be the one facing a psycho! She hit me with one of those awful bunny slippers. Heaven knows what she'd do with her curlers."

I sighed. "Can you at least make it look like you aren't following us? Maybe come in, say, five minutes after me?"

"You got it little bro," Jacques replied. "We'll be invisible."

"By wearing camouflage?" Kit grinned.

"You read my mind!"

"I'm thinking that, for good measure, we should wear those new foliage blinds."

"In which case, we'll obviously need the duck hats. No one ever suspects ducks."

"Absolutely! Of course, we'll need the duck calls then…"

My loving siblings continued plotting my social demise. I began getting ready. My hands started to shake so badly I could barely do my tie. I stabbed my thumb trying to put the VFD pin in it. I brushed my suit down before we left. I paused at the door, glancing at my accordion.

"Do you think I should –"

"Leave it," Kit said firmly.

"Definitely leave it," Jacques confirmed. "The trick to a good first date is not letting them know how weird you are. Save it for a few months once you've got her trapped."

"Do I look ok?"

"You look like a brother, but I suppose you're fine. Future tip though Lem, you're supposed to wear your underwear _in_ side your pants," Jacques commented.

"WHAT?"

I can't believe I even looked. It was one of his jokes, as usual.

"You look nice," Kit reassured me. "If I were your age and I didn't know you, I'd think you were really cute."

We set off from our dorm to the East Gate. I heard Kit telling Jacques not to stress me out anymore. Jacques thought it was 'hilarious and kind of adorable'. She pointed out that he hadn't thought so when he was trying to impress Elizabeth Quagmire.

"You liked Lizzie Quagmire?" I gasped.

"What's wrong with that?" Jacques blushed. "She's really great… and really pretty."

Once we'd gotten outside and the gate was in sight, I told them very firmly to either hang back or go ahead of us. I was early, so Beatrice hadn't turned up yet. They decided to set off ahead of us. It would've reassured me if I knew for sure they weren't lurking in the trees ahead.

I stood at the gate, patiently waiting. My stomach was in knots. I made a mental check list. I'd already eaten a truck load of breath mints. My hair should be fine and I was wearing a hat in any case. Kit had told me my clothes were fine. My tie was straight. My fingernails were clean. Was I wearing socks? What if she saw the tattoo of an eye on my ankle and thought I was some sort of juvenile delinquent? I panicked for a few seconds until I realized that I was wearing socks, and even if I hadn't been, Beatrice had the same tattoo. I tried to remember witty conversation starters I'd read. What would you be doing outside of Volunteering? What is your favorite book? What's the best VFD acronym you've heard or encountered? What's your favorite holiday? Do you know any good jokes? I kept reminding myself to be mondaine – a word which here means 'mature and sophisticated', as that's how Beatrice was. I was peering down the path, trying to see if Jacques and Kit were still there when I heard footsteps approaching.

Beatrice looked beautiful. Her dress was blue with a multi-colored flower print. The neckline was square and the sleeves short. She had on little white socks to cover her ankle and smart brown shoes. A white band around the middle accentuated her slim waist. Her chocolate brown hair was neatly curled and she'd donned a matching blue ribbon in it.

"Hello," I smiled, hoping my grin wasn't too cheesy and praying I wouldn't throw up. "I'm Beatrice."

 _No!_ Why had I said that? I put my hand over my face.

 _You're an idiot, Snicket_ , I could practically hear her saying. _My friends were right_. But then, mercifully, I heard her real voice say something entirely different.

"Are you? Oh, in that case, I'm Lemony."

We both laughed.

"I'm sorry," I blushed. "It's just – I'm – "

"Nervous?" She finished. "It's ok. I am too. No one has ever really taken an interest in me before. Don't worry. My first day here, I knew I wanted to work in their zoology department. I showed up in class and do you know what I said? 'Hi, I'm an animal and I love working with Beatrice'. Everyone was laughing! I almost ran out of the room right then."

"That's horrible," I laughed. "I'm sorry! I've never been this weird before. I mean, I'm weird, but I can usually speak."

I sighed. What had Jacques _just_ told me? This wasn't going well at all.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled for the third time. "If you want to leave…"

"Not at all! I don't think you're weird. A little silly, but I like that. It makes a nice change. My friends are so sure of themselves all the time. One of them, Isabelle Spats, can be real catty. She's the one who made that rude accordion joke. I'm sorry about that, by the way. I don't agree at all. Still, I like her – at least, I used to. I don't know anymore." She sighed and suddenly looked very sad. Beatrice took my arm then and we began walking down the path to the café. "You see, something's changed. I don't know if it's them or me or perhaps a little of both. In any case, they've all gotten rather arrogant. I didn't notice at first. I knew they were snarky. They liked to make little comments about people. Sometimes it was funny. Recently, they've gotten mean about it. I don't understand it all. Their words are harsh and uncalled for. It's like they've got it in their heads that they're better than others. I don't like that at all. I'm sorry, Lem. May I call you Lem?"

"No, please don't be," I reassured, patting her hand. "And yes, of course you can. I've never had a nickname before. Except for my sister, who calls me L and she knows that I hate that."

"Thank you," she smiled, looking grateful. "I've been harboring all of this and I can't talk to a single one of them about it. They'd only talk behind _my_ back. I've been hoping something would change. Perhaps someone new would show up and I could befriend them. I've been feeling so stuck. I fear having no friends at all. Then you… and your kind note…well, I never thought opportunity would come around a bookshelf with an accordion, but I suppose life is like that." She grinned up at me, though I was only just taller than her. "What are your friends like?"

"I suppose they're a bit like me," I said. I'd never really thought about it before, but we all seemed very similar, despite varied interests. "Hector is shy and a bit of a nervous Nellie, but he's very kind. Smart, too, he's always inventing something or other. Gustav is a little younger than we are. He's a film buff and he's working with coding. He's very creative, so he's fun to talk to. Monty is great. He's a herpetologist –"

"Montgomery Montgomery?" Beatrice asked suddenly. "I know him! He's in one of my classes. I'd no idea he was a friend of yours. We've worked on a few class projects together. He's lovely – very warm and friendly."

"He is," I agreed. "Then there's Widdershins. He can be a little brash and forward at times, but he has a good heart. Nothing ever seems to scare him and he's terribly adventurous – which is why he's such great friends with Josephine, who's also in our group. They both love to be on the water. Honestly, I can see them being the first noble pirates."

Beatrice giggled. "They sound so nice. Where do you usually hang out?"

"The library. Although on really nice days, we go to the gardens."

We had finally emerged from the tree lined lane and were standing at a city street. A cross walk was marked out a few feet away. We paused tentatively, a word which here means 'checking for cars, as neither of us wished to be run over', then crossed. The café was almost directly in front of us. I held the door open for her and she stepped inside. To my horror, I saw my siblings already seated at a table, peering at us over menus embossed with gold writing. It was hard to make out the words and might have looked like the sort of script on any fancy menu, but I knew it read 'Vigilant Firebrand Disguise'. I drew a line over my throat and glared at them, a motion which here means 'cut it out'. Kit lowered her head. Her eyes emerged between the B and D in 'firebrand'. I groaned.

"Are you alright?" Beatrice asked.

"Oh, yes – I accidentally kicked that coat tree," I fibbed.

We went to the counter and I ordered two root beer floats. Beatrice chose a table, which was mercifully far away from the menu's prying eyes. I noticed that she looked a little ill at ease when I sat down. I asked her the same thing she'd just asked me.

"Hm? Oh! Oh, yeah, I'm fine. It's just that poster in the window. That mad man still on the loose. It's a bit creepy, isn't it?" Then she lowered her voice. "Especially as he was one of us."

I nodded. "I wonder what set him off."

"The Schism, probably," she shrugged. "My mom said it did a lot of people in."

"Your parents are still living then?"

"Thankfully, yes. My mother is a teacher and my father is an accountant by day and a writer by night. What about your parents?"

"They're still living," I smiled. "They're both farmers with the Valorous Farms Dairy."

"That sounds nice, to live out of the city in fresh air and open space."

"It does get dull, but on the whole it's alright. I would use the term fresh loosely though. With all those cows around, it's not always as fresh as it could be."

Beatrice laughed. Our floats arrived, and she looked at it curiously.

"How do I eat this? There's a spoon _and_ a straw."

"It's up to you, really, but I manage to get both on my spoon. Some people let the ice cream melt into the soda. Some people eat one or the other first."

She tried several things and ended up with something that was more milkshake than float. She told me she loved it. I wasn't sure if she was being sincere at first, but when she got another one, I knew it was true.

"I can't believe I never knew these existed. Clearly, I've been very deprived! Have you had one that's better?"

"Only once. It's the quality of the root beer and the ice cream that really makes it. We went to a diner on vacation a few summers ago and they made their own root beer. I'm not a villainous person at all and yet I'm planning to steal their recipe. It was the best thing I've ever tasted!"

"I might participate in that," she grinned. "I can see the papers now: two Very Fat Delinquents robbed a diner yesterday. They'd been filling themselves with frozen desserts for years and the trouble came when they decided to use an entry not meant for human access. A security camera caught these images of the two struggling in and out of the window."

"One witness says he came across the upper half of the rotund male juvenile," I added, "the recipe for root beer still clutched in one chubby fist. 'I distinctly heard him shout for the girl to take the card and save herself,' says Bob. 'When I went farther down the lane, I could see her trying to stuff the rest of him through by pushing a plunger on his backside. I couldn't believe it. It was like that scene in Winnie The Pooh, you know, when he's caught in Rabbit's hole'. It appears he managed to escape though there was severe damage to the window. The couple reports that the plunger was never recovered, and it's thought that he may still be wearing it."

Both Beatrice and I were in stitches, a phrase which here means, "laughing so hard that she began to snort and I had tears in my eyes". She finally sighed and dabbed her eyes with a napkin.

"Oh Lem, I'm so glad I joined you today. I haven't laughed this much in a long time!"

I was glad to hear that. It was a good opener for me to ask if she'd heard other good jokes. Indeed, she had. She repeated one that I'd already heard but still found funny, one about an old man and some cookies that I'd never heard, and one about salt and pepper shakers that I hadn't expected such a polite girl to know. I told her some myself and she nearly spit out her root beer at the punchline to the one about a rabbi.

I moved on to my other conversation starters. To my great surprise, she'd thought of some herself. She told me that if she were not a volunteer, she'd be quite bored, but she'd probably be invested in a hobby like metal detecting as she was interested in treasure hunting. I honestly couldn't think what I'd be doing either but it would probably involve our farm. Her current favorite book was Les Miserables, although she was certain it would change again that year. My favorite had always been The Bears' Famous Invasion Of Sicily. We had the same favorite holiday: Halloween. It's impossible not to love a day where one can be disguised to get free candy. She had to think about her favorite VFD acronym, and when she told me, I could hardly believe it.

Beatrice told me a story of how her father had once devoured an entire bean salad that her mother had intended to be for a potluck which he'd forgotten about. No one would admit to eating it, so she suspected all of them had had a hand in it. He was outed later by way of exploding methane, a phrase which here means 'a series of unfortunate toots'. I was already laughing, and Beatrice hadn't even gotten to the good part. Her mother finally tracked down the culprit and had it out with him. He asked who she thought she was – a Vapor of Flatulence Detector? Beatrice and her siblings had laughed so hard they cried. Her mother remained unsympathetic and hauled him off to the party, gas or no gas, only to come home regretting it. Every single person there was soon aware of his problem, as the hosts had unpadded wooden chairs and insisted upon a moment of silence before the meal was served. It wasn't silent for long. The two of us were howling with laughter by the time she finished her story. I suddenly realized I wasn't nervous around her anymore.

"You know, somehow I thought you'd be really different," I said.

"Oh? How so?"

"When I see you around school, you seem so reserved. Very prim and proper. I look at you and see sophistication and elegance. I was so worried that I'd look like a total goon, I was looking up etiquette yesterday. Then you tell me one of the best gas stories I've ever heard!"

Beatrice giggled. "Actually, I was worried about impressing you. You're very different from what I thought, too. You've always got the answers in class and you're always doing something interesting. I expected you to be super intellectual and a little stuffy. I didn't think I'd be laughing all day!" Then she raised an eyebrow. "What did you mean by 'one of' the best gas stories. Surely you can't beat that!"

"No? When I was younger, we were trying to teach my brother to lighten up. He used to be so serious. You'd never know it now, of course! Anyway, I can't remember the reason, but our parents took us to this really nice restaurant. I knew that no seven year old boy could resist a good prank. Not even Jacques. I had this tiny self-inflating whoopee cushion. I kept squeezing it behind my sister in the car. She was getting more and more agitated, and Jacques was starting to lose his cool. I saw his reflection in the mirror and he had stuffed a hankie in his mouth to keep from laughing. I finally handed it off to him because she suspected me and I knew she'd frisk me. He thought devices like that were immature until he accidentally squashed it, which made this truly terrible sound. Jacques finally broke. Kit was furious by the time we got to the restaurant – especially when our mother suggested she use the facilities. She desperately tried to claim innocence. She threatened that I'd better stop and I showed her I didn't have anything. We waited for her to come back before going to our table. Kit was sitting between us, trying to keep and eye on the two of us at once. The waiter came with glasses and started filling them with water. We decided enough was enough. Jacques was going to pass it off to me where I'd keep it in my pocket. He lost his grip and we both tried to catch it. It was right behind Kit's back. We accidentally squeezed it and it made another loud rip. Kit nearly shouted, 'Stop it, Jacques!' He didn't miss a beat. He looked under the table and said, 'Sure sis, where did it go?' I'd never seen my father laugh that hard, my mother was hiding her snickers behind a napkin, and the waiter knocked my glass over then had to sit down because he was laughing too hard to breath! I still think Kit is the only one who doesn't appreciate that story."

Beatrice was finding breathing difficult, herself. When she was finally composed, she said, "I didn't know you had siblings. Jacques and Kit, you said?"

I nodded. "Jacques is tall with dark hair. I guess he's good looking because girls are always pestering him. He's sort of shy that way. Kit is short with strawberry blonde hair. I think she's pretty, as far as sisters go."

"What do they do?"

"Harass me, mostly," I grinned. "Jacques is a journalist and surveillor at the moment, though he's up for just about anything they ask him to do. Kit is a brilliant lockpick and can get into almost anything or any place. Those are their current jobs. You know how it changes."

"Yeah, my brother's had four different jobs. Admittedly, he was forced out of one because he blew something up in chemistry and his hair was pink for a week. They didn't find that helpful," she snickered. "He's a botanist now. I also have a much older sister who's a full volunteer. She's a librarian." Then she asked the question I'd been dreading. "What are your siblings doing today? Did they know you were planning to meet someone?"

"They did," I said. "Actually Beatrice, I wasn't completely honest with you at first. When we walked in, I said I hit that coat tree? I was just trying to get rid of the twins. If you hadn't noticed that menu watching us, they're over there."

"I thought that looked familiar," Beatrice said. "I suppose I wasn't so honest either. I wasn't really worried about that crazy guy. See that plant in the corner? No, the one with the rim decoration that looks like eyes. Two of those eyes are real. That's my brother. Unfortunately, the plant is real. He's been cultivating that hat for over a year."

The two of us started giggling again.

"I guess it's nice that they care so much. Still…" I looked at my watch. "Recess is almost over. Shall we ditch the minding menu and the peeping plant?"

"Gladly!"

I'd already paid for the drinks, so I left a tip on the table and we headed out of the café. She took my arm again as we walked across the street. Beatrice reached into a pocket in her dress and pulled out a compact mirror, looking stealthily over her shoulder.

"Don't look now, but we're being followed. I think your sister has opera glasses. Is that a duck on her head?"

"What?" I cried. I looked in the mirror, horrified. "I thought they were joking!"

"Compared to Elwyn, they look normal. He didn't even bother to take that stupid plant off! Of all the nerve. Just pretend you don't see them – that would give them way too much satisfaction."

I agreed. We checked on them every so often with the little compact. If our siblings hadn't been acting so foolish, we might have avoided the shadow lurking in the trees up ahead. We were so engrossed in the mirror we were paying no attention to our surroundings, which is practically the first rule of being a volunteer. The next thing I knew, a large form was blocking our way. Beatrice gasped and then without warning, she hit the ground, completely out cold. I looked up to see a man who was two full feet taller than I was. He was bulky and had the cruelest eyes I'd ever seen. They were dull and lifeless, though manic. It reminded me of a photo I'd once seen of a person suffering shell shock. I'd normally have been absolutely timorous, a word which here means 'frozen in terror', yet despite my shock, I was fast. He'd had the gall to knock-out the first real date I'd ever had. In the grip of a new, powerful emotion, I cried out and heaved my bookbag at his head.

I wasn't overly strong, but it did the trick. I always kept a hollowed out book in my bag, although it wasn't hollow. It currently had a brick inside of it. He stumbled. I stuck my leg out to make sure he'd fall. I hit him over the head again for good measure, then sat on him and ripped my belt off. We were always taught that a belt would work perfectly in the absence of handcuffs. I tied him up as tight as I could. My panicked sister was by my side in the next second.

"Lemony! Are you ok? I can't believe it. I can't believe he was actually here! Jacques and I just said that so we could follow you!"

"I'm fine Kit," I replied, breathing heavily. I hugged her and noticed that my hands were shaking from the adrenaline.

"That was brilliant," she grinned.

"Beatrice!" Elwyn screamed, shaking her shoulders. "What has he done to you? Wake up! Beatrice, answer me!"

"It's alright," Kit soothed, putting a hand on his shoulder. She ran a finger under Beatrice's nose. "See? If he's VFD, it's probably the TAND drug – you know, ThornApple, Nightshade and Diphenhydramine. She'll be ok, she's only sleeping. Here."

Kit took a water bottle out of her bag and offered it to Elwyn, who had begun to cry. I felt bad for him. That must have been a horrible thing to see. I knew how I'd feel if anything ever happened to my sister. Realizing that he wouldn't be able to help, Kit gently poured the water over Beatrice to get the powder off her face. She took a tissue from her pocket, ripped it in two, got it damp and stuck it up each of my new friend's nostrils to clean them out. I looked up when I heard someone running toward us and realized for the first time that Jacques hadn't been present.

"The diner says they've called the police," he said, panting. "They'll be here in a minute. Is she ok?"

"She'll probably have a headache later, but she's fine for now. She could be asleep for awhile though. Can you carry her?"

"It's ok Jacques," Elwyn sniffed, wiping his eyes. "You don't have to. I can carry her… I've had to before."

He was just working out how best to lift her when the flashing lights and sirens showed up. It was instant chaos. We were interrogated on all sides. Especially me, as I was the one who had tied him up. Elwyn didn't have to worry about Beatrice. They brought a medic who was bigger than any one of us. He carried Beatrice back to the school. Elwyn wanted to follow them but was made to stay. We were bombarded by teachers shortly after that. It was at least an hour before we were allowed to go back inside.

I sighed. I just wanted to go to bed and it was still early in the afternoon. I wasn't sure if the date had been a success or a failure. Still, I felt I'd made a good first impression. I was nearly to the stairs when Elwyn caught my arm.

"Hey Snicket," he said.

I was nervous. He was even older than Jacques and bigger. His grip was solid. I had to admit, I was scared of him, even though he was wearing a stupid hat. I swallowed.

"Yeah?"

"You were pretty great back there. I was watching you this afternoon – a guy can't be too careful," he said.

"I know," I replied, pointing to his plant.

"Oh." He took it off and chuckled. "I wasn't so sure about you, and if I'm honest, I don't know that I'll ever think someone is good enough for my sister. She really enjoyed herself though. I haven't seen her laugh like that in a while. Plus, you kind of saved her life. So… thanks."

"I was glad to."

He stuck his hand out and I shook it. He turned and wandered off, probably to the infirmary. I trudged up the stairs to where my siblings were waiting.

"That seemed to go really well," Kit replied, a huge Cheshire cat-like grin on her face. "Will you be seeing her again?"

"I hope so," I said.

"What was so funny?" She asked. "You were laughing practically the whole time."

"Just some jokes, mostly."

"And?"

"Come on, I've been interrogated all day! We were telling each other funny stories."

"Kit needs details," Jacques said. "Girls live and breath this stuff. If she were a cat, she'd be dead with curiosity now."

I sighed deeply as we made our way to the dorm. "We just talked about our friends, then family and what we're doing at school."

"That doesn't sound so amusing," Kit pouted.

"On the contrary, you two are hilarious!"

"Us?" Now Jacques was curious too.

"Absolutely! A wealth of stories! Brilliant inspiration!"

"Lemony! Cut it out," Kit cried. "You're being facetious deliberately!"

"Facetious means you're driving her crazy with your flippancy," Jacques winked.

"Stop it, Jacques!"

"Yeah, that was one of the stories," I grinned.

"Huh?"

"You know – 'stop it Jacques', 'sure, where'd it go,'?"

Kit stopped dead in her tracks. "What?"

"That was the one that made her snort," I continued. "She'll probably want to meet you some time. She thought you sounded like a very funny person, despite any gastric issues."

" _What_? You didn't! Tell me you didn't!"

I ran the rest of the way to the dorm. Jacques and I scooted inside and locked the door, gasping with laughter.

"Open this door!" Kit yelled, pounding on it. "Lemony! You open this door right now or else! Do you hear me? Just wait. Just you wait! I can pick this lock in ten seconds flat. I'm going to twist you into a pretzel!"

"That doesn't sound very kosher," I called.

"I hope you saw the rabbi last week, because when I get in there-"

"A phrase which here means 'with all due respect, Lemony Snicket, you better hide'," Jacques said.

I reflected that having a second date with Beatrice in the infirmary might be an improvement over this one. I hid anyway. For all my heroics, I spent the rest of the afternoon suspended in my garment bag in a closet while Kit stood outside the door and completely violated my accordion by trying to play it. Some people have no sense of humor.


	2. Jacques' Long Night

JACQUES' LONG NIGHT

When Jacques arrived at the Baudelaire mansion, it was to find Bertrand in a state of panic. Jacques rang the doorbell and waited patiently. When Bertrand finally arrived, he flung the door open, shoved money into Jacques' hand and ran to the taxi with a massive suitcase.

"Well, come _on_ man, be sharp about it!" Bertrand shouted as he charged outside. "There's another case just inside the door. There's a handsome tip in it for you if you can get us there in five minutes."

"Bertrand? That's _my_ car," Jacques called.

Bertrand clearly didn't understand why this 'driver' wasn't lifting a finger to help. Jacques sighed and went back to his taxi. He took the light off the top and peeled the rates off the side.

"Bertrand. It's me," Jacques tried again. "I'm here to take care of your daughter!"

"Jacques!" Bertrand seemed shocked. "Wow, you got here quickly. Did Beatrice call you?"

" _You_ called me ten minutes ago!" He sighed deeply. "Give me that suitcase. You're a wreck, you know that? I know your wife is having a baby, but really…"

Jacques grabbed the suitcase and guided Bertrand back into the house. His poor friend was tense and dazed. He didn't seem to know what day it was. Jacques could've driven him halfway to the Hinterlands before Bertrand noticed something was off. Now he knew why Beatrice had insisted that he be the one to help. He set the suitcase down by the door and closed it. He tugged Bertrand into the front sitting room where Beatrice was patiently waiting.

"Good evening, beautiful," Jacques smiled. He went to Beatrice and hugged her gently, lightly kissing her cheek.

"Oh stop," she laughed. "I know I'm a mess. I suppose I'm not doing too bad, compared to _some_ people in this household."

"Well, I'd be far more concerned if he didn't freak out! How are you feeling?"

"I think I'm pregnant," Beatrice replied mischievously. "Or I've swallowed a watermelon seed."

Jacques laughed. "Again? I thought that happened two years ago, too. Speaking of which, where's the kid?"

"Violet, come here," Beatrice called. "I want you to meet your uncle Jacques."

Two tiny eyes peeked up from behind the lounge Beatrice was half-sitting, half-laying on. They were large brown eyes, full of curiosity. They suddenly disappeared and within seconds, a little girl was crawling out from under the raised lounger. Beatrice picked her up and put the child on her lap. Violet was a beautiful little girl. Besides her big eyes, she had a tiny button nose and full, pouty lips. Her hair was dark like Bertrand's and cut into a bob with bangs. Someone, most likely Beatrice, had put a headband on her with a ribbon on top. Her thin frame was covered by a blue and white plaid dress, topped by a white lace collar.

Jacques knelt down and smiled at her. "Hey squirt! I'm Jacques. What's your name?"

Violet shyly smiled back, but put her fingers in her mouth and leaned into her mother. Beatrice chuckled.

"Come on, love. You know Jacques! He's our friend," she encouraged. "He's going to take care of you tonight."

"Because of Baby?" Violet asked.

"Exactly right, it's because mommy is having a baby. Jacques is here to help you, but you need to help him too, ok? You can show him where your room is and where your pajamas are. I bet he'd like to read to you! Or you can play games. He's needs to know your name first."

"I'm Violet Baudelaire," she beamed, holding out her hand.

"It's nice to meet you, m'lady," Jacques bowed and kissed her hand.

Violet squealed and giggled. "I'm two. How old are you?"

"I'm twenty-eight," he laughed.

"Hmm, that's a lot," she decided. "My mommy is twenty-five!"

"Violet!" Beatrice laughed, playfully pinching her daughter's side. "A lady never reveals her age. But as we're still young, I don't suppose it matters." Then she groaned slightly, wincing. "Bertrand? Did they say how soon they'd be here?"

"No. They said about ten minutes. They're late! I can drive you myself, I suppose."

"Oh no you don't! Not in the shape you're in. You'd drive me all the way to Heimlich hospital! Look, if they're not here in a few minutes, maybe Jacques can take us." She looked hopefully up at her friend.

"Of course I will," he promised.

"Mama, are you ok?" Violet asked, full of concern.

"I'll be fine, lovely," Beatrice said. She tucked Violet's hair behind her tiny ear, then gently rubbed her back. "Having a baby hurts a bit. I'll be ok once I get to the hospital. Do you remember when you fell and your knee was hurt? When we took you to the hospital, they helped it to stop hurting and made you all better. That's what they're going to do for mommy. Once I come home, we'll have a brand new baby! And what will that make you?"

"A big sister!" Violet cheered. "I'm gonna be a big sister."

Bertrand finally peeled himself away from the window. He grabbed Violet up and held her above his head, pretending that she could fly. Violet shrieked with glee. When he brought her down, he gave her a big kiss.

"I love you, my darling girl," he said, hugging Violet close. "Mama and I are so proud of you. You know, you're going to have some new responsibilities as a sister. That's a big word, isn't it? It means we trust you, and because we trust you, you're going to have some very important things to do now. Do you understand that?"

Violet thought about it. "Yes. But… but daddy? I don't want to change poopoo diapers, ok?"

All of the adults laughed. Bertrand agreed, telling her that was a big person's responsibility. Moments later that the other taxi arrived. Bertrand was instantly flustered again. Beatrice rolled her eyes. Jacques and Bertrand both helped her off the lounge. She picked up Violet and asked Jacques to follow Bertrand to make sure he didn't make a nuisance of himself.

"Alright, big girl. Mama has to go to the hospital now! You're going to stay with uncle Jacques tonight, and all day tomorrow. Daddy and I will be back Thursday morning."

Jacques came back in the house, laughing. "He's just tried to pay the cabbie, Bea. He gave him two buttons and a receipt from Akhmatova Bookstore!"

"Honestly, that man" Beatrice sighed. "What are we going to do with your daddy Violet, hm? Now listen, you keep Jacques out of trouble. Don't let him keep asking for sweets and hold his hand if you cross the road."

She grinned and winked at Jacques, gave Violet one final kiss, then handed her to Jacques and waddled out the door. He shut and locked it. He took Violet to the window where the waved good-bye to the cab as it drove down the avenue, turned a corner and went whizzing off to the hospital. Violet had seemed perfectly fine, so Jacques was extremely surprised when she burst into tears.

"Oh no! Violet! What happened?" He gently patted her back and softly shushed her.

"Mama!"

"I know. Shh, it's ok, I know. Your mama is perfectly safe," he tried to reassure her. "And we're going to have so much fun together!"

Violet reached for the window, making a pitiful sound. Jacques decided to take her to another room to distract her. In truth, he'd never taken care of such a small child before. He'd already had his apprentice with VFD but the boy had been twelve. He sighed. His twin sister, Kit, was much better with children than he was. Unfortunately, she was on a date with a geek named Dewey.

"Hey, I bet we know the same song, kiddo. It's about my brother!" Jacques cleared his throat and started to sing. "On a charming little cattle farm near a pretty deadly lake…"

Violet sniffled. She rubbed at her eyes and stopped crying long enough to listen to him. She brightened a bit when she realized she did indeed know the song.

"Both his siblings watched him, and his mother and his dad. But someone one else was watching over the little – " he paused.

"Snicket lad!" Violet finished.

"Very good! See? I told you we both knew it!" He resumed singing. "And then they took him, yea, they took him, they took him far away. They took him in the dead of night beneath a moon of gray. They took him from the kitchen like you'd take a midnight snack…."

"The VFD took him and never brought him back," She sang.

Jacques sang the next parts. "Ready for the big finish?" He held Violet up, then playfully brought her down quickly to the rug, so that she was on her back. "When we grab you by the ankles – " he pulled her to him by her ankles, making her giggle, "where our mark is to be made –" her tickled her feet and ankle and Violet squealed with laughter, "you'll soon be doing noble work, although you won't be paid – " he pretended to search the pockets of her dress, "when we drive away in secret, you'll be a volunteer, so don't scream when we take you…"

"The world is quiet here!" They finished together, and both of them laughed.

"Now Miss Violet, I heard that you just went to a museum. Can you tell me about it?"

The toddler got a huge grin on her tiny face. "The Verne Museum! Yes! I _loved_ it!"

"Did you? What did you love?" Jacques was terribly relieved that she wasn't crying anymore and wanted to keep encouraging her to think about something else.

"Well, it was about people who were super smart. Some wrote books and they could draw, but all of them built stuff." Violet stood up and began tugging Jacques finger. "Come, come, come!"

He followed Violet to another room that he supposed was their living room. She released his finger and ran to the coffee table. Jacques turned a light on, as the light outside was quickly fading. Violet grabbed a book that was nearly half her size and tossed it onto the couch. Then she clambered up herself, eagerly waiting for Jacques to sit next to her.

"I got this!" She told him excitedly. "This is alllll the things people made called inventions. Inventions help make hard things easier. They saw a problem or something they could fix and they did it! Only sometimes it didn't work right away. See?" Violet opened the book to one of the last pages about the Wright brothers. "They wanted to fly! They had to try lots and lots of times before it worked. Mommy says that's the most 'portant thing, is just trying. And not giving up."

"She's right," Jacques said. "If these people had decided it was too hard and gave up, there wouldn't be a museum! Do you know what the most important tool an inventor uses is?"

Violet thought about it then shook her head.

"Imagination," he smiled. "An inventor needs to have a big imagination and lots of dreams! If you have a good imagination, it won't matter if you can't find the right item or the right tool. You'll be able to come up with something else to use all by yourself. You'll think of very special things that no one else in the world can think about!"

"Imagination," she repeated, committing it to her memory. Then she beamed up at Jacques.

"What was your favorite thing?" He asked.

"Hmm…" Violet started turning the pages. "This! That's a picture from _inside_ a hand! It's called an X-ray. Those are all his skeleton but he's still alive!"

"Wow, that's really impressive," Jacques agreed, not mentioning that he'd had plenty of x-rays in his lifetime.

Violet turned more pages. "And this. This is the first lightbulb ever! Well, um, not the very first. I think the first is probably broken. It's a model. These are all of his real drawings though." She flipped through the book again. "This is a gramophone. This one just played voices people recorded. Now they're way better and they can play music and voices and birds and all kinds of things! We have one over there. Mostly we use the radio though. I like when it tells us stories."

They sat together, very contented. Violet told Jacques everything she learned, and he was impressed by how intelligent she was for someone so little. He looked at the clock when she was finished. There were still two hours before she needed to be in bed.

"Would you like to have a treat?" He asked.

"Can I?" She gasped, excited.

"I'm looking after you tonight, and I say it's perfectly fine!"

Jacques picked her up and took her to the kitchen. He sat her down at the table, then began rummaging in the Baudelaires' ice box. He found the ice cream easily enough and put it on the counter to soften. Then he searched through the shelves for the right bottle. If there was anything he knew about Beatrice, it was that she loved a root beer float almost as much as his little brother. He found several glass bottles tucked away on the top shelf, quite possibly where Violet wouldn't be able to get at them whenever she wanted to. He popped the cap off with the multi-tool he always kept in his pocket. Jacques wasn't as much of an expert at making them as Lemony, but he figured there couldn't be too much of a trick to it. He poured some of the root beer into a small glass for Violet, then added the ice cream. He put in a straw and a spoon, then made a larger one for himself to use up the rest of the soda.

"Here you are, kiddo. This is a root beer float."

"I'm not supposed to have these yet," Violet admitted with a mischievous smile.

"Well, you know what's special about uncles? We let you do things you aren't supposed to, as long as little girls don't snitch on us," Jacques grinned. "So we won't tell mommy, right?"

"Shhh!" Violet giggled, putting a finger to her lips.

Jacques laughed and sat down across from her. Violet plunged her spoon into the mixture and brought out a big glob of the fizzy ice cream. She took a tiny bite, testing to see how much she liked it. Her eyes grew wide, but her smile was wider.

"That's _so_ good!" She said, almost reverently.

"Isn't it?" Jacques smiled. "Don't eat it too fast though, or you'll get a headache."

"I like the bubbles! They make my mouth feel sparkly!"

"I know, it's fun," he agreed. He liked the adorable way Violet explained things.

She finished much faster than him. He hadn't given her too much ice cream, figuring there was enough sugar in the root beer. She hopped off her chair and put her cup on the counter by the sink.

"I'm gonna go potty, ok?" She asked.

Jacques paled a bit. He'd never been good at that sort of thing. "Ok. Do you need help?"

"No, I can do it," she replied, much to his relief.

"Come back here when you're done," he told her as ran off.

He heard a door shut somewhere in the hall. He finished his dessert as fast as he could, rinsing out both glasses when he was done. He left them out deciding they could be used later. In the distance, he heard a toilet flush and the sink running. Seconds later, little feet were running back toward the kitchen.

"I've got an idea," he said. "Would you like to build something with me, like a real inventor?"

She put her little hands on his knee, practically bouncing with excitement. "Can we, really?"

"Of course! Look, I found this in your trash." Jacques held up a plastic tub of sorts. "We can make a toy that will always come back to you when you roll it. Do you know where daddy keeps his tools?"

"Yes, I'll show you. They live in the garage," Violet told him, turning to run off in that direction.

"Whoa, wait up short stuff!" he called. "Jacques isn't that fast. Also, come here."

Violet waited until he caught up with her. He pulled at the back of her dress.

"There, your pretty dress was caught in your panties!"

She laughed. "That keeps happening. At least I have _nice_ panties though! They have flowers. Do you have flowers on your panties too?"

"No, I'm afraid not," he said, desperately trying not to burst into laughter. "Mine are very boring."

"Poor Jacques. Maybe I can invent you some." With that, she took off down the hall again.

Jacques allowed himself to laugh. He'd never really given a second thought to children one way or the other. He decided he liked them. Violet was so sweet and innocent. He thought how nice it must be to have such excitement for life and be able to enjoy all of the simple little things adults overlooked. She wouldn't have to grow up the way he, his siblings, Beatrice and Bertrand had. She and the new baby would be safe from the treachery of VFD.

"In here," Violet called, jumping for the door handle. "I can't… I can't get it."

Jacques turned it for her and flicked on the light switch. Bertrand's tools were off to the left. Violet had an easy time getting to them, but Jacques had to squeeze himself around their car. Everything was on neat shelves, little drawers or hanging nicely. For all his handy-man skills, Bertrand was still a neat freak. Jacques started hunting for what they needed – two blocks of wood, two nails with a hook on each head, a fishing sinker, a key ring, and a rubber band.

They went back inside and Jacques put everything down on the living room floor. He poked a hole into the bottom of the plastic tub with his multi-tool, then one in the lid. He showed Violet how to hammer a nail into the wood. He started threading the sinker through the key ring but let her finish it. He told her how to wrap the rubber band around the hook, one end on each hook. Then she put the lid on.

"Ready?" Jacques asked. "Give it a push."

Violet rolled it away from them. It slowed, paused, and to her amazement, it rolled back. She gave a happy cheer, then rolled it harder, clapping when it came back.

"Isn't that nifty?"

"I love it!" Violet cried. "Does it always come back?"

"It sure will. That little weight helps it move. It's called a pendulum."

"Pendulum," Violet repeated.

After several minutes, the fun and excitement of rolling an object back and forth wore off.

"Can we make something else?" She asked eagerly.

Jacques looked at the clock. "Sure, I think we've got time for that. For this, we'll need to find something from your mom's bathroom."

Violet hopped up and Jacques followed her up the stairs. Violet turned lights on as she went. She stopped in a door way to the right. The master bedroom took up much of that level of the house. They had a cozy fireplace, their own radio and television, and an enormous bed. To the left of the room was another door that Violet opened. Their bathroom was the size of a small apartment. Jacques knew where women kept most things, after growing up with a twin sister and having one serious relationship that didn't end how either of them had planned. He found Beatrice's cosmetic stash fairly fast. He took out two compact mirrors.

"Now where do you think we can find a big milk carton?" He asked.

Violet thought about it. "Under here!"

Jacques doubted very much that there would be a carton of milk under the sink, but sure enough, Violet produced one. She shook it.

"It's got mama's hair pins."

"I'm sure we can find something else to keep them in. I don't think your mother will mind sacrificing this for science."

"For science!" Violet cheered.

"We need some scissors and tape."

"Downstairs, again," Violet sighed.

"Want a ride?" Jacques asked.

She happily climbed up onto his back. He crawled down the hall while she laughed. He carefully stood when they got to the stairs.

"I want you to hang on to me really tight, ok?"

He waited until he felt her tiny fingers gripping his shirt. He threw one of his legs over the banister, then slid backwards down it.

"WHEEEEE!" Violet screamed and laughed.

It wasn't a terribly long banister, so the ride was quite short, but it seemed long to Violet. Jacques got down and held onto Violet's hands to make sure she wouldn't fall. He knelt down again and let slide off.

"Listen Violet," he said. "That's only something you do with an adult right now. Don't ever try to climb onto the banister until you're bigger. You could get really hurt. Understand?"

"How big do I have to be?"

Jacques smirked. She sounded just like Kit. "Five years old."

"That's a long time," she pouted.

"I know, life is tough. At least you've had a root beer float. Come on you, let's get those scissors."

Violet led him back to the kitchen where she perched eagerly on a chair. Jacques rooted through their drawers until he found the one they kept other supplies in. He pulled out what they needed and sat at the table. He cut a hole on side of the milk carton near the top, then one at the bottom on the opposite side. He opened the top and had Violet help him tape a compact mirror to it at an angle. Then he put the other mirror at the bottom so that it faced the mirror at the top. He held it while Violet taped it in place.

"I know it doesn't look like much, but wait until you see what it does. Here, you get under the table. Look into the bottom and tell me what you see."

Violet did as he suggested. Jacques stayed across the table from her and made a funny face into the top of the box. He knew she'd seen it when he heard the giggling.

"What do you think?"

"That's funny! How does it work?"

"This mirror on the top sees me. It shows this mirror down here my reflection. When you look into it, you can see me even though you're down there and I'm up here. You can disguise it and hide around corners, then you can see anybody coming before they see you! You could look at someone on a bed while you're hiding under it, or you can be at the top of the stairs and see what's going on right under you."

"Wow!" Violet mused. "Can you go around the corner so I can see?"

Jacques obliged her. He told her to stand back in the open archway and only poke the very top of it around the edge. Violet was amazed that she could still see him.

"I love this!" She exclaimed.

"That's called a periscope. Have you ever seen a submarine?"

"I just saw one at the museum!" Violet ran to get her book.

Jacques found her on the couch, trying to find the page she wanted to show him. She finally got to it and scooted it over to him.

"Yeah, there we go! See this long pole at the top? That's a periscope, too. The one on the submarine is much bigger but it works exactly the same way. That way a submarine can be under the ocean and see any ships that are coming."

"Do they spy on fishies?"

"I'm sure they do," he smiled. "I have a friend called Ike whose job is spying on fish."

"Really?" She grinned.

"Really! He works in a place called Anwhistle Aquatics. He has loads of fish and he trains them to do things. He watches them all day to make sure they behave."

"Can I make an invention by myself?"

"I'm sure you can, but –"

Violet didn't wait to hear the rest of what Jacques was going to say, which would have been "but it's almost bedtime". She took off down the hall far faster than he would've expected.

 _There was definitely too much sugar in that root beer,_ he thought. He was right. He desperately tried to keep up with her and it seemed to him that the second he found Violet, she was running to her next destination. He hadn't even done this much running on his last mission. After ten minutes, he was forced to admit it – Violet was far quicker than he was. He leaned against the wall to catch his breath.

He tried to remember as far back as he could. Surely Lemony hadn't had this much energy when he was two! Then again, he and Kit would have been four, if not five already, so they probably had just as much. He suddenly remembered his brother crawling out of a crib at some ridiculous hour of the morning and scooting out the door, only to come back a few moments later with chocolate milk. Jacques wouldn't have minded if Lemony hadn't crawled up into bed with him, his tiny fingers ice cold from snooping in a refrigerator. Jacques had tried to ignore him, so Lemony did what he always knew would wake his siblings up. He sat on their chest and pinched Jacques' nose. He'd been furious and accidentally knocked the milk right out of his brother's hand when he sat bolt upright. Still, he couldn't stand to see his baby brother look so disappointed; and of course when Lemony slid off the bed and started to waddle tearfully back to his crib, Jacques was compelled to make it right. They were back in the kitchen the next minute and sharing their purloined midnight drink. He should've known that Lemony would be back two hours later, asking to be taken to the bathroom. He smiled at the memory and wished he knew where Lemony was now.

Jacques began to hear wheezing and was worried about himself until he realized it was coming from another room. He set off in that direction. He heard Violet laughing and before he could even enter the room, she was off again. He looked in the room, as it seemed amiss. When he turned the light switch on, he was horrified. A pile of ash from a fireplace was scattered in a good three foot pile, with sooty little foot prints spanning the length of the room. He heard a crash from another room, and Violet mumbling "uh-oh", before skittering away.

Dreading what he'd find, he turned the lights on where he'd seen her come from. It was some sort of office or holding room. Violet had tipped over a shelf, spilling the contents of several craft baskets. Balls of yarn had unraveled every which way. Beads and buttons were still rolling about. Some paint was oozing onto the floor and mixing with what smelled like glue. As he stood there in stunned silence, a jar of liquid starch fell over, broke open and began cascading down the shelves like a horrific waterfall.

He groaned. This was definitely not what he'd signed up for. He dreaded finding out what was causing the rustling in a room close to the kitchen and, resigned to his fate, he trudged off to check it out. It was another deep closet. Luckily there wasn't too much damage, only a mess. A box of stationary had been overturned and decorative papers were strewn all over. Violet had also knocked several rolls of party streamers off a shelf. He backed out and nearly tripped over a metal box. Jacques glared at it, wondering how it had gotten there. He gathered that it came from the closet. He opened it to find that it was a small tool kit. He was pushing it in with his foot when the lid popped open. To his horror, he realized that it was the type of box with padded foam and a space for every tool – and two were missing.

Violet suddenly ran past him, giggling and pushing a plastic basket filled with all the items she gathered. She was covered in a whole host of other objects that had fallen on her. He gasped.

"Violet, wait! Come back!"

"No time, Jacques! I've got an imagination!" She called.

He tried to catch her but she was alarmingly evasive for a toddler. She'd probably gotten that from Beatrice, too. He wished he could turn himself into two people. If only he could wait ahead of her, he'd have a real chance at corralling her. That was what gave him his best idea yet. He _was_ two people! Half of a duo, in any case. He already knew where the Baudelaires' phone was. He went straight for it and dialed the Veritable French Diner.

"Hello, yes, can you please page a Kit Snicket?" He asked, when some young waiter named Larry answered the phone. He waited impatiently, tapping his foot. Seconds later, he heard the voice of his cavalry.

"I _saw_ you watching me Olaf, and I swear, if you're trying to ruin this date for me – "

"What? Olaf was stalking you?" Jacques asked, temporarily forgetting his own problem.

"Jacques?" Kit asked in surprise. Then her tone changed again. "How dare you! How _dare_ you! I can't believe this – my own brother? I know you think Dewey's a bit strange, but _really_ Jacques! Sometimes you can be so immature!"

"This has nothing to do with him!" Jacques huffed, hurt that his sister would think he'd deliberately try to sabotage her date. "For your information, I'm actually glad you've found someone as weird as you!"

" _What?"_ She cried. There was a pause, then they both started to laugh. "I'm sorry. It's only – I do think he really likes me. I'm trying so hard to make a good impression. I saw O across the street in one of his pathetic disguises. He actually tried to come into the diner! They tossed him out, thank goodness, because he wasn't wearing a suit. I'm just stressed out. What did you need?"

"I'm sorry, Kit," Jacques said. "I don't want to ruin your night. I didn't know who else to call."

"Lay it on me."

"Beatrice went into labor, so I'm watching their kid. It started great and then I gave her sugar. I – I don't know what's happened! She went berserk! There's soot and paper and paint and _stuff_ everywhere! She says she's an inventor. She's got a screwdriver, Kit! And possibly a hammer." He watched as Violet pushed her basket into the living room, singing a loud song that Jacques didn't know or understand. Desperately, he whispered, " _Help me!_ "

Kit burst out laughing. "Wow, Jacques. Sounds like you've got an interesting date yourself! Look, we were almost done here anyway. Can you hold out for another fifteen minutes? He's staying on Dark Avenue with Jerome. He walked here, I'll drop him off, then be there as fast as I can."

"Fifteen? That sure doesn't leave you two much time to tango."

"Don't be disgusting!" Kit's tone was scolding, but he could practically hear her smirking. "You know what they say – Virtuous First Dates. I uphold that, thank you very much."

"Yeah, but I've seen how you get on a second date."

"Shut up!" She laughed. "I'll be there as fast as I can."

She hung up. Jacques felt as though his lifeline slipped away. He clung to the hope that she'd be there. He listened hard and didn't hear Violet moving around anymore. Maybe she'd stopped? He crossed his fingers, hoping against hope that she'd fallen asleep. He followed her trail to the living room. Violet was in the middle of the carpet, working hard on something. Jacques was immensely relieved when he saw that she only had the tools for aesthetic value. She was working with a large balloon. Jacques could see her filling it, although he couldn't make out what it was with. Then she took a bellows and attempted to attach the balloon to it. Violet didn't have all of her small motor skills yet and she was finding it difficult.

"Can you help me?" She asked Jacques. "I want to make it big, but I can't get it."

He didn't see a problem with that. Violet had simply come up with a way to blow up a balloon. He didn't have the heart to tell her that had already been invented, but she was certainly very creative. He slipped the balloon onto the end of the bellows.

"What have you made?" Jacques asked.

"I'm going to make stars!"

Violet worked the bellows until the balloon was inflated. Then she kept going. Jacques didn't understand what she meant by creating stars, although he knew the balloon would burst any second.

"I think that's enough," he said gently. "That balloon is going to pop, Violet."

"I know, I want it to," she grinned.

He shrugged. If she wasn't afraid of that sort of thing, more power to her. As the rubber stretched thin, Jacques caught a glimpse of what was inside. Violet had filled it with glitter, confetti, bits of foil and every other shiny thing she could get her hands on.

"Oh no! Violet, I really don't think this is a good –" Jacques panicked.

 _BANG!_

Violet screamed, then laughed. The living room was bathed in her "stars". She laid on the floor, watching the glitter settle. Jacques blinked. _Why me,_ he moaned inwardly. Before she could scoot off again, he grabbed her hand.

"Alright, little inventor," he said. "It's bedtime. And before that, you need a bath."

"Why?" Violet whined.

Jacques ran a finger over her head. "Look! You're covered in paint?"

She looked extremely shocked. Violet put a hand on her head, giggling when it came away blue and full of glitter. "You have stars on your head."

"We've made a bit of a mess, young lady," Jacques sighed.

"It's pretty!" She insisted.

"Yes, well, with all due respect –" The doorbell rang. "Thank goodness!"

He scooped Violet up and practically ran to the door. Kit was wearing a lovely evening dress, with a black bodice, sleeves that came off the shoulders, and a white bottom that fluffed out. Little flowers adorned the waist. A pearl necklace sat elegantly around her neck. She had her hair done up nicely with a decorative comb. Jacques had never seen her look so sophisticated – when had she turned into a real woman? He'd hardly realized that they were technically adults!

"My, you sure look fancy," she teased. "You should wear glitter more often, Jacques. It suits you."

"Who are you?" Violet asked cautiously. At least she had a healthy suspicion of strangers.

"Hi sweetie," Kit smiled. "I'm Kit. I'm Jacques' sister! I'm a lot more fun, too."

"I'm going to be a sister," Violet told her, still unsure whether or not she wanted to accept Kit.

"I know you are! I'm sure you don't remember me Violet, but I came to see you when you were just a tiny little baby. Beatrice, er, your mommy needed a little nap, so I came to take care of you for the day."

Violet smiled, reassured by the fact that Kit knew her mother. Jacques moved aside so she could enter and Kit tickled Violet's side as she passed them. He set Violet down, who immediately wanted to show the new adult what they'd been busy with. They took Kit to the living room to show her the sparkling damage and she laughed.

"Are you sure _she_ did this?" Kit grinned. "I know those Baudelaires can throw some wild parties!"

"Yep! I did it!" Violet announced. "I made stars!"  
"You sure did! It looks very pretty," she replied, trying to be encouraging. "I think you made shooting stars. You know what though, squirt? I think we need to put them back in the sky where stars belong. Mommy and daddy might be worried if they bring a new baby home and see fallen stars everywhere. Does that sound like a good idea?"

Violet decided that it was. Kit asked if Violet would like help with her bath, thinking it might be less awkward than it would be with Jacques. She agreed and took Kit's hand.

"Hang on a moment," Kit said. "Jacques, come here." She took him to a closet in the front room. "This is another of man's greatest inventions. It's called a vacuum cleaner."

Jacques gave his sister a dirty look. She waved and took Violet upstairs to the bath. Kit asked her to show her where her pajamas were. Violet was eager to help. She didn't know why, but she was very intrigued by Kit – something about her was just really cool. Kit started the water running in the tub and dumped in some bubbles for good measure. She told Violet to wait there. Kit decided that her nice evening gown probably wasn't the best thing to care for a toddler in. She went as quickly as she could to the master bedroom. It felt wrong to rifle through their drawers, but this was something of an emergency. She finally found where Beatrice kept her night wear and quickly undressed into pajamas before hustling back to the bathroom. She helped Violet wriggle out of her dress, then plopped her into the tub. The water instantly started turning colors. Violet laughed.

Kit let her play for a while. There were plenty of toys around the tub. Kit tried to remember what things had been like when she was a little girl and realized she didn't remember too much before VFD. As she watched Violet let a toy boat drop down the wall into the water, her mind released a sudden memory. Lemony hadn't been born yet. She was Violet's age, or possibly a little older. Jacques was in the tub with her, repeatedly sinking a toy ship.  
"Rubber duckie, you're the one! You make bath time lots of fun," she sang happily, pushing a plastic duck around in circles. "Rubber duckie, I'm –"

"Going to squash you!" Jacques cried, smacking his boat on top of her duck.  
"Hey! No! Leave duckie alone," she protested, rescuing her duck form the depths of the tub. She humphed. "Rubber duckie I'm awfully fond of you – doo, doo, doo be doo. Rubber duckie, you're so fine. And I'm lucky –"

"Cause you're fried! Rubber duckie, I'm gonna eat you!" Jacques giggled.

"Stop it! Sing your own song!" She groused, her little face angry. "Twinkle, twinkle, little star, how I wonder what you are. Up above the world so high –"

"Like a diamond IN THE skyyyyy," Jacques cut in, completely off key.

"I said _stop it_ , Jacques!" Kit whined. "You have to sing it _serious_ or you can't play!"

"Twinkle, twinkle, little star –"

Jacques cut in with his obnoxious rendition. Kit faked tears and threw a bath pouf at him. His laughter only made her angrier.

"Frère Jacques, Frère Jacques, Dormez-vous, Dormez-vous," Kit sang loudly.

"I hate that song," Jacques complained.  
"Sonnez les matines, sonnez les matines, ding ding dong, ding ding dong! Frère _Jacques_ , Frère _Jacques_ , Dormez-vous, Dormez-vous," she continued.  
"No! Stop it, Kit!"  
"FRERE JACQUES! FRERE JACQUES!"  
Both of them started to shout, prompting their mother to look up from her book. Jacques pushed Kit in the chest, making her tumble backwards in to the water. Kit stood up, furious, uncapped the shampoo and dumped it onto his head along with a cup full of water. Jacques started to scream and threw his boat blindly at her. It was a good shot too, hitting her right in the face. By this time, they really were crying. Their mother broke it up, scolding both of them.

"Honestly, you two get along so well," she cried, as she moved them to separate ends of the tub. "And the only times you fight, you really try to hurt each other! I can't believe you! One of these days, I won't catch you in time and you'll both end up in the hospital. Is that what you want?"

Kit had never seen her mother so frustrated with them. She rarely raised her voice in the first place. It did make Kit take notice though. She hadn't really wanted to hurt Jacques, she only wanted him to stop pestering her, and she told her mother so.

"Then _tell_ him that, for goodness sakes! If you'd just let him know you're angry with your words, maybe you wouldn't have to show him with your hands. And you, Jacques – your sister asked you to stop. Why on earth wouldn't you listen?"

It continued like that for some time. It was the first real lecture the twins had ever received. Their mother stuffed them into their nightclothes and dumped them into beds rather unceremoniously. Kit had been very bothered. She didn't know that a schism was on the horizon, nor that her mother had just gotten word that another pair of twins in the VFD had had a massive falling out and were indeed in the hospital with gruesome stab wounds after trying to kill each other. All she knew was that she was worried about her mother's behavior and felt very poorly about how she'd treated Jacques. She slid out of bed and started to go across the room to his bed. Jacques had the same idea and the twins ran right into each other and fell over. They started giggling.  
"I'm sorry Jacques," Kit said sadly. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"I'm sorry too. I didn't want to hurt you either. Are we still friends?"

"Of course!" Kit got up and pulled on his hand until he stood. "Come get in with me. Your bed is squeaky. I don't want mom to get mad again."

Adult Kit smiled softly. She and Jacques had continued to tease each other, but they'd never really fought like that again. Several months later, their mother had given birth to another baby and helping out had made them too tired to squabble. The schism had started not long after that. They still argued, as most siblings do, but they were far too afraid for it to last long. More than anything, they wanted to stay close together and look after their brother. Only now, Kit reflected sadly, she only got to see Jacques one full month out of the year and she had no idea where Lemony was. Jacques had a life she didn't know much about. Lemony might not have a life at all.

"Rub a dub dub, three men in a tub, and who do you think they'd be?" Violet sang.  
"The butcher, the baker, the candlestick maker, they all went out to sea," Kit finished the song with her. "Here honey, let me help you with your hair."

Kit started to scrub the paint, glitter, and other things out of the toddler's hair. How did children manage to get so messy? It was lucky that the gunk was coming out as easily as it had gone in. The water from Violet's head finally ran clean and bubble free. Kit handed her a bar of soap, trying to encourage Violet to wash herself, but it became slippery and more of a toy than anything.

"No!" Violet laughed as it shot away for the umpteenth time. "Sneaky soap!"

"Try putting it the cloth," Kit smiled. "It's a soap cage. There, now he can't get away."

She tried to hurry Violet along and once she was done, Kit pulled the plug. She wrapped Violet up in a large, fluffy towel, then put Violet's hair up in a smaller towel. Violet snuggled her. Kit smiled and gave her a big squeeze. She found instructions taped onto the bathroom mirror from Beatrice. Apparently, she would find diapers under the sink that Violet still needed to wear to bed. Kit sat Violet on her knee as she knelt down to look under the vanity. She pulled out one of the diapers, hoping not to embarrass the little one. She closed the door and felt Violet staring at her. Kit smiled.

"You're so pretty," Violet commented, putting a hand on Kit's cheek.

Kit melted completely. She wished she could keep Violet forever. "Thank you, sweetheart! You're pretty too."

She gave Violet a big kiss that made the toddler giggle. Violet held onto her as Kit helped her into the diaper.

"I don't like these," Violet sighed. "They make my bum itchy. I can use the big potty, it's just sometimes I don't wake up at night and I have an accident."  
"That's ok, though. You're still learning, aren't you? Some day that won't happen anymore," Kit said. "Let's get you into these jammies and see what Jacques is doing."

Jacques was resting on the couch. Kit set Violet down and she ran to him and pounced.

"Hey cutie pie. Look at you! You're clean!" Jacques smiled. "Are you ready for bed now, little inventor?"

"I guess so," Violet sighed. "Will you read to me?"

"Of course! Everyone _has_ to read before bedtime. It's the law."  
"Can we slide up?" She asked when they came to the stairs.  
"I wish we could," he said. "Unfortunately, it doesn't work like that. We can only slide down."

"Jacques Snicket! What have you teaching her to do?" Kit asked.

"We had a little ride earlier. I made sure I told her she has to be older! What did we learn about sliding downstairs, Violet?"

"I can't do it until I'm big people," She replied.  
"Exactly. See? She's a smart kid!"

Violet's bedroom was large for a child. The wallpaper was white and patterned with violets. She had a small iron bed painted white, full of pillows and stuffed animals. There were plenty of toys elsewhere. Along one wall were several short bookshelves where Violet could easily access them. She had a wardrobe, a vanity, several lamps and a large rocking chair under a window. Violet grabbed some books, then climbed into bed.

Jacques read to her first, a book about a filthy dog who goes through an identity crisis because he's so dirty. Kit took the story which involved a skinny lion who was tricked by a rabbit into becoming a vegetarian. Violet began to yawn and nestled deeper into her bed. Jacques picked up the next one in which there was a small boat who, for whatever reason, was sentient and decided that it wanted a better life for itself only to conclude he'd be happier in a bathtub. By the time Kit was halfway through the next book concerning an incredibly slow dog who grew very fat from eating the desserts of all his siblings, Violet was fast asleep. Jacques turned out her lamp and he and Kit made their way downstairs to clean up the rest of the house. It was nearing eleven when they finished.

"I'm beat," Kit said, flopping onto the living room couch and putting her feet up on the coffee table.

"Now you know why I called," Jacques said, collapsing next to her. "Still… she _is_ pretty darn cute. I couldn't yell at her. She was so upset when her parents left, but then she was really sweet to me."

"She told me I was pretty," Kit smiled.  
"She said it to me first," Jacques pouted playfully and they laughed.

"Just be grateful you didn't have to sit for the Quagmires. Good gravy. I love them so, only…"

"But there's three of them," Jacques guessed.

"Exactly. I didn't think one year olds could move so fast! I don't know how their parents do it. I tried to read to them once. Duncan wanted to play with the books, Isadora wanted to throw them and Quigley wanted to eat them! And that's the other thing – all afternoon, half of what I said was 'who are you'. Isadora was the one with long hair, but after that I was lost."

Jacques laughed. "What do you want them to do, embroider initials on their backsides?"

"It'd be a start!" Then she sighed. "For all that, I'd still like one though."

"A Quagmire?"

"Stop that," Kit giggled, hitting him with a decorative pillow. "You know what I mean!"

"Yeah, I know. I wouldn't mind having a few rugrats myself."

"I miss Lemony too." She leaned over, putting her head on her twin's shoulder. "Jacques? Did you ever wonder what it would be like if he really had married Beatrice? This could be their house. I love Bertrand, he's a sweet man and I know he truly feels lucky to have Beatrice. I just feel terrible about the whole thing. She and Lem – they'd have kids now. We'd have a niece or nephew."

"We still may," Jacques shrugged. "It… it was very close after all. Too close. I doubt if even Beatrice knows."

"Don't, Jacques," Kit moaned, tears filling her eyes. "If Violet was his – oh, I just couldn't bear it. The second I saw her I thought the same thing. She's just so perfect and so like him. I think we're fortunate that Beatrice lets us into their life."

"When I first arrived, she referred to me as 'uncle' Jacques. I still don't know what to make of it."

There was a heavy silence between the two while they were lost in their own thoughts. It was the sad sort of silence that's hard to come out of. Neither of them knew what to say to make anything better. Kit was the one who finally broke it.

"What are we doing tomorrow?" She asked.

"We?"

"I figured you might need some help. She got away from you at home, I hate to think what could happen in public!"

Jacques hit her back with the pillow. "If we stay away from anything sweet or caffeinated, I'm sure I'll be fine. I suppose you can tag along. She really does like you."

"Obviously! I'm a super cool, mature adult with all sorts of awesome style!"

"You're not supposed to lie to children."

That was how the pillow fight started. Jacques gallantly gave in in the end. He decided he'd better shower before he forgot that he was bathed in glitter. Kit went to the upstairs guest room and hunkered down in the bed. Jacques came in not long after.

"For old time's sake? It's been a long time since we've shared a bed," he commented.

"I know. You haven't started snoring have you?"

Kit snuggled into him the way she used to. Jacques put his arms around her. He'd meant to talk to Violet about the importance of younger siblings. Parents were always telling their children things, but it was different when another adult talked. He wanted her to make sure she paid the new baby a lot of attention. He wished he could make her realize just how special it was – she would have a friend forever, someone who would always listen and understand and know exactly what she meant. He wanted more than anything to tell her to keep her sibling close, tell them she loved them and cherished every moment they had together and all of the things that he should've told Lemony but never got a chance. Everything could end too quickly. VFD had gotten better in recent years but there would always be evil lurking in the world. He only hoped it wouldn't come for the Baudelaires.

 **((Please review if you liked it :) The next one will be about Kit!))**


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